


Over the Edge

by MsCFH



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 16:45:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18480268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsCFH/pseuds/MsCFH
Summary: Sansa and Margaery making the best of their balcony cabin while on a cruise. What could go wrong?or“I assume, you provoked me to make noises that resemble those of a person being brutally murdered…?”





	Over the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> As writing anything that resembles smut is what I consider my great Achilles heel, I started this as more of a writing exercise than anything I ever thought I would post, but as I am content with the way it turned out, I thought I share it with you.  
> This is unbeta'd, so I deeply apologize for my horrible punctuation and grammar.

Sansa’s hands tightened around the wooden railing, as she inhaled the warm humid air that engulfed her. It had been one of those almost unbearable hot days -one she would forever be to “northern” for- and despite it being past midnight the temperature had not dropped considerably, had only become more endurable.

She stood on the balcony of their cabin, glancing down in the sea's darkness, hearing the soft brawl of the waves, only making out the white spray that glowed on its surface, illuminated by the nearly full moon in the sky. Like through almost the entirety of her vacation here, her lips tasted like salt.

The glass champagne with which they had concluded their night still left a cheerful buzz in her mind, the kind that almost made her giddy with how happy she was, how perfect this entire day, the whole trip had been so far.

She could barely recall why she had ever been averse to embark on this cruise in the first place. Why the concept of being on a ship for several days at a time, with only the waters of the Dornish and the Narrow Sea surrounding them had seemed alarming, now it allowed her a notice of liberation, tranquillity she had not experienced like this in a long time. Margaery had been right, occasionally she was too set in her ways for her own good. Now that she was here, she was very glad for her wife’s persistence and her… _ways_ of persuasion.

A smile flashed on her lips when she heard the clicking of heels approaching on the tile floor behind her and extended when arms encircle her waist, pulling her into the warm body behind her. Margaery’s chin settled on her shoulder, as she was making advantage of the fact that Sansa was already barefoot while she was still in her four-inch heels.

“Every time I expect you can’t possibly become any more gorgeous...”

Her hot breath tickled Sansa’s ear as she spoke, making her melt even further into the hold that was simultaneously strong and tender. She smelled Margaery’s flowery perfume, sensed the warmth of her body pressing into her through the thin silky material of her dress, almost too much for the steep heat that still surrounded them.

Her fingertips ghosted over the tan forearms that were crossed over her midriff, reflecting one further time how unfair it was that even a hint of sunlight left Margaery with this lovely golden tan while she had to cover herself up in the highest LPF she could find, in order to stay in the sun for longer than an hour.

“You looked ravishing tonight,” she mouthed the words against the side of her neck, concluded it only a second later with a kiss to her hairline.  “Distractingly so.”

Sansa’s eyes drifted close as Margaery trailed a path of hot open-mouthed kisses along the length of her neck, her fingers curling around Margaery’s arms to have something to hold on to.

She’d picked her look for tonight deliberately. A strapless, floor length dress made of green silk, with a slit that arrived at her mid-thigh. Her long hair she had worn braided up, perceiving that the soft expand at the nape of her neck was her wife’s definite weak spot. All complimented by a crimson lipstick, she knew Margaery adored on her. To everybody else her appearance had seemed perfectly appropriate for a formal dinner at the captain’s table; only the both of them knew that it had the sole purpose of… keeping things interesting.

Sansa hummed at Margaery’s ministrations against her skin. “I’m sorry, did I distract you in your talk with the First Officer?”

“I did not hear you protest when he offered _us_ a tour of the bridge.”

She had being going on about that for the last week, it was true. Had mentioned repeatedly how the view from up there had to be wonderful. It was just like Margaery to make sure Sansa got precisely what she wanted. Still…

“You did not need to be _quite_ so charming,” Sansa gave back sourly.

She knew that it was something that Margaery did half the time without even realizing it, the smiling, the touching of hands, the melodic laughter where she flung her head back, the glint of her eyes. It was who she was, it was who Sansa had fallen in love with. Sansa thought she knew better than to be jealous, but until now her outfit had gotten her not much of the attention she was wishing for and that had just not sat right with her.

“Did you feel neglected?” Margaery, whose lips were now against the skin of her shoulder chuckled. “Oh my sweet darling, I had to keep my focus on something else, or I would have done something entirely inappropriate to you,” she emphasized the words by tightening her arms further around Sansa. “Right there at the dinner table, for everybody to see.”

“You would have?”

She felt Margaery’s intake of breath against her shoulder, the very one that implied her most mischievous smirk.

“Well, it would have taken some creativity I reckon,” she drawled in a low tone. “But at least that bloody slit in your dress would have been good for something besides driving me mad.”

Margaery’s right hand abandoned the hold on her waist and settled on her leg, wandering over the skin that exposed by the cut-out, moved beneath the material, until her fingertips reached the inside of her thigh, dragging her nails over soft flesh.

“Just imagine, darling. You would have been forced to sit there, perfectly still and unfazed, making small-talk, sipping your wine, smiling graciously at people while my fingers did this to you.”

Sansa’s mouth dropped open in a hushed moan while nimble fingers outlined her folds through the lacy material of her panties. The arm that kept her close tightened around her, lips assaulted the exposed skin of her shoulders and the nape of her neck with feather soft brushes.

“It wouldn’t have taken long, or a lot of effort,” Margaery went on, sounding altogether too smug. “Touching you like this would have been enough to have you ruin your panties, your dress, perhaps even the chair, in minutes. The thrill of doing something so scandalous, the probable risk of anybody seeing what you let me do to you… that would have pushed you over the edge faster than my most elaborate touch ever could.”

She gave Sansa a gentle bite, before nuzzling her face into the crock of her neck, as her hand at last slipped past the barrier of black lace, breathing soundly when she was met with Sansa’s wetness.

Fingertips found her clit and commenced drawing torturously lazy circles, the kind that would serve exceedingly little to grand her release, alone had the remaining purpose of driving her crazy with yearning.

Again she could hear the grin in Margaery’s tone. “I doubt you would have been capable to keep silent,” she mused, sounding genuinely curious there. “Tell me darling, how would you have concealed it? Perhaps a muffled cry against a napkin while rocking against my fingers?”

Sansa did not like the whiny frustrated sigh that left her one bit, alike more so since she realized that Margaery thrived for that. She could tell herself again and again that she would not permit her the delight of pleading for release, but that resolution never lasted a moment beyond Margaery‘s first touch on her.

“Marg, please…”

“The way back to our room might have been entertaining,” Margaery’s movements were still maddeningly slow, but her breathing was as laboured as Sansa’s. “You looked so elegant tonight, so carefully put together… your arousal dripping down your thighs for sure would have complimented that. I think I would have not made it all the way back here, but fucked you up against the wall in the elevator.”

Margaery had a skill to underline her comments, the mental image she was drawing, with gradually building the pace of her movements, every so slowly working its course to just the perfect pace, to just the right pressure.

The hand that was not yet engaged with driving Sansa to madness, reached up and cupped a breast over the material of her gown, a thumb flicking over a hardened nipple, before sliding beneath the material, letting her warm palm massage and tease her.

The first sound that went beyond a ragged panting left Sansa’s lips just then, while she grew boneless in her hold, one hand reached out to the railing, the other covered the one on her chest, reinforcing the touch eagerly.

“It is a shame I could never go through with it,” Margaery almost sounded thoughtful there for a flash, almost disappointed, if not for the hoarseness in her statement, that implied how incredibly turned on she was. “These small moments before you come… the noises you make, watching your face relax as you come undone, the adorable way your hand always look for something to hold on to as if you are falling. That is not something I’d ever risk letting anyone see. That is all mine.”

This certain possessiveness of her tone, the way she plain and simple claimed her… the Gods help her, it was the final straw for her. Equally, if not more, powerful than the mental perception of Margaery finger fucking her during a formal dinner.

Sansa’s head sank back against Margaery’s shoulder as a low moan escaped her lips and a wave of heat and pleasure erupted throughout her body.

Margaery only slowly stilled her movements, withdrew her hands from beneath her dress at last and buried her face into the skin on her back that had erupted with goose bumps despite of the heated climate, and held her for the moments that followed and let her recover in the comfort of her arms.

Only when Sansa trusted that the weakness in her knees had subdued for the bigger part, she dared to spin in Margaery’s arms, meeting her lips in the kiss she had longed for from the minute she had moved behind her previously.

Their lips clashed together, their tongues sliding against each other. Sansa’s hands drew over Margaery’s back and in her lust clouded mind she took a minute to pick up what felt off, that the bare skin over that stretched over the muscles of her shoulder blades she was touching did not go along with high-collared dress she had worn tonight.

In a frenzy she pulled back, creating enough distance between them to study Margaery‘s appearance in the faint light that fell onto them from the inside of their cabin.

Her breath caught in her throat and her fingers drifted along Margaery’s sides, when she discovered her in nothing but a lacy thong and her heels in front of her. Her lipstick was smudged from their kiss and her hair spilled over her shoulders… she looked positively sinful.

A satisfied crooked smirk played on her lips as Sansa’s eyes went over her body.

“I might have had an agenda, coming out here,” Margaery acknowledged playfully, her pointer finger outlining Sansa’s collarbone.

“Just when I thought we were being spontaneous,” Sansa chuckled, her palms settling on Margaery’s bare hips, two thumbs outlining the waistband of her underwear.

“I assume we both realize I don’t enjoy leaving things up to chance.”

Taking a step closer Sansa tightened her grip on curvy hips, looking into eyes darkened with craving. “You are such a control freak. We have to work on that.”

“And how do you propose we go about that?”

In a swift move Sansa pulled Margaery against herself and thrust her up against the glass panel of their balcony. She caught her by surprise there, her mouth open in awe, as they remained there for a second, Margaery’s eyes blown like they invariably were when Sansa took control.

She tangled Margaery’s long curls between her fingers then, tugging her against her lips for a kiss so rich it left them both gasping for air.

“I have a few ideas,” Sansa disclosed, smoothing out hair she had tousled a moment before.

A hand reached behind Sansa and undid the zipper of her dress, leaving the dress to pool in a small bundle at their feet, remaining in the same state of undress that Margaery was in, shifting herself closely against her.

The humidity had made both their bodies damp. It was something that had bothered Sansa every other day of this holiday, had her take several showers a day, and reside in the air-conditioned parts of the ship during the midday hours when it became intolerable.

Now however… feeling Margaery’s heated, sticky skin against her own, it left her turned-on like hardly any time before in her life, and she could not get enough of the sensation.

The smirk on Margaery’s face widened when Sansa hooked two fingers into the waistband of her panties, tearing them down far enough to have them drop the rest of the way to her ankles. Margaery drew up an eyebrow as she stepped out of them, kicking them to the direction of Sansa’s rumbled dress.

The sight of her wife in nothing but a pair of heels, the bold look that appeared with it, had Sansa dismiss any conclusion she had carried to take her time here. Her fingers ached to touch her, her mind needed to see that image of her that was likewise only reserved for her, the one of Margaery letting go, of giving herself to her.

The beach chairs of their balcony, the same ones she had determined as too uncomfortable to read further than two pages in her book, turned to proper value at last, as she hooked a hand beneath Margaery’s thigh and let her brace her foot against one of them.

Margaery’s chest was heaving as Sansa stroked her hand along the underside of her thigh and her hands wrapped around the railing, bracing herself for what she perceived was coming. The sight of Margaery spread out to her like that, thoroughly exposed, glistening with arousal was one that never failed to spark excitement in Sansa. Even after all these years in which they had been together, nothing excited her better than Margaery making herself this vulnerable to her, while deep wanton flared in her eyes.

Here however, with her naked ass pressed against the glass front - something that for sure would have a been a sight had there been any ship’s passing by - with hundreds of people around them that might not see, but certainly hear them, Sansa felt a yearning to touch her like never before in her life.

The gasp of surprise that came from Margaery at the feeling of two longer fingers entering her, Sansa only barely caught with yet another heated kiss, smirking into it, when she felt Margaery’s raged breath against her face as she worked her fingers in and out of her in a good speed.

For the first few minutes of this ordeal, Margaery did her best to carry on meeting her lips in kisses, eventually though her head tipped back, her upper body curved backward over the railing to which she clutched on for her dear life.

“You better keep quiet,” Sansa teased, as she proceeded to drive her fingers in and out of her, pushing her firmly against the railing causing Margaery to bite her lip, struggling to keep the sounds she was making at a bay. “We wouldn’t want to disturb our neighbours.”

The balconies were separated with floor to ceiling metal plates, that offered as much privacy as you could have on the limited space of a ship. Still with the way they were standing, the way Margaery leaned nearly dangerously backwards over the railing, for anyone in the adjacent cabins it would have not taken much more than leaning the slightest bit forward to be able to catch quite the spectacle.

For as much as Margaery had taunted her earlier about the thrill a public endeavour would have sparked in Sansa, Sansa very well knew that it was likewise not an image that left her wife entirely unaffected. Surely, the rapid thrusting that Sansa kept up, did its purpose in having Margaery as worked-up as she was, but Sansa was almost sure that they were not in the privacy of their bedroom for this added excitement for Margaery.

Not missing a beat, Sansa added a third finger, altering the angle of her hand so that each of her thrusts brought the heel of her hand right against Margaery’s clit.

Her free hand took a hold of Margaery’s chin turning her face to the left, breathing right into her ear.

“Look, the bridge has a splendid view on us right now.”

She smirked when Margaery’s eyes shot open for a moment, darting up to detect if someone was to be seen of the yardarm overlooking the side of the ship,  only to squeeze shut again with another particular strong thrust into her.

“Perhaps your Officer Taller is there, watching us. That should produce the bridge tour tomorrow a lot more interesting, once he realizes how licentious you become when I’m knuckle deep inside you.”

Sansa could not say where the words came from, perhaps some remaining jealousy of being so dismissed during dinner, perhaps she wanted to taunt Margaery as much as she had taunted her. Perhaps it was the thrill of being able to take her like that, in a semi-public place, of being the only one in the world allowed to let an ever so well-put-together Margaery Tyrell letting herself fall like that.

Either way, the words left her in a spur before she could consider them, and for a moment there she thought she had taken it too far until she was rewarded with a guttural groan that tore itself from Margaery’s throat, to grant a vent to the arousal and pleasure she felt.

The hand that was not busy, taking Margaery to new spheres of satisfaction, dragged down from Margaery’s exposed throat, settling on her breast, as she leaned forward and let her lips explore the salty skin, scraping her teeth along it and placing an open-mouthed kiss against her collar bone.

The delicious way Margaery’s muscles started to flutter around her, let her recognize that she was not far from passing over the edge. Somewhat torn between wanting this moment to last forever and impatiently eager for wanting to hear her wife come as powerful as conceivable, Sansa slowed her actions the slightest part, landing on precision instead of eagerness. She curled her fingers inside of her, while her thumb pressed into her clit-

She consciously heard the clicking of the cabin door being opened, was confused by the light that suddenly engulfed them, the rush of chilly air that struck her bare back as the balcony door was yanked open and watched the look of horror appear in Margaery’s eyes that shot open, long before her squeal of surprise ever reached her ears. A complaint was on the tip of her tongue as Margaery closed her legs so rapidly Sansa feared for a moment that she injured her wrist, but before a complaint made it past her lips she felt toned arms close around her, holding on crosswise over her shoulder and the sound of voices behind them.

Sansa’s head whirled around then, her eyes widening when she met a group of people in nautical uniforms standing inside their cabin, several with whom they had shared dinner tonight, with First Officer Taller leading the way, already on the threshold to the balcony, making her glad that she had not bothered taking her panties off earlier, because otherwise her naked ass would have been stretched towards him now. Not that it was not bad enough as it was, her whole hand still damp with Margaery’s arousal, so plainly obvious what they had been doing.

“I apologise,” Officer Taller showed enough courtesy to turn halfway away from them, having assembled what had transpired here and what he had cut short. “We had noise complaints from other guests and the lookout from the bridge indicated that there might be a struggle going on… Which was clearly a misunderstanding.”

“Clearly,” Margaery’s tone was calm, but her speech still slightly gruff and her breathing laboured from being just seconds away from a climax. “Now that is cleared up, might we ask you to go?”

Only Margaery Tyrell could have so much polite authority in her request and demeanour, despite the circumstance that she was standing there in what could only be characterized as a perfect freshly fucked look; completely naked, her hair tousled, bite marks on her neck, her lipstick everywhere on her face still, but her mouth, only her likewise naked wife shielding her from unwanted looks.

The room emptied as quickly as it had filled before, only the still brightly shining ceiling light serving as a reminder that someone had interrupted them. For a moment they remained there still bewildered, Margaery only slowly shaking her head.

“Please tell me I hit my head really hard when I came and dreamt that.”

Sansa chuckled, closing her arms around her wife’s slender frame, and nuzzled her face into the soft, still very much damp skin on Margaery’s neck, still feeling the heat in her own cheeks.  That had been… horrifying. It was… she had teased Margaery with the suggestion that the watch from the bridge could see them, but she’d not expected, that it would result in something like this. Suddenly the concept of staying on a ship for the next several days, with no port in sight seemed altogether alarming once again.

“You better hope that room service is excellent, because I’m not taking another step outside this cabin, before we are going home.”

“Maybe not even then?” Margaery quipped.

If there was a way to get on a rescue boat in this second, that would take them to the next port, Sansa was positive she would not even trouble to pack a suitcase.

Finally she lifted her head to look at her wife. “What in the world did they expect we were doing that would justify this intrusion?”

A faint smirk spread over Margaery’s lips, her fingers caught a hold of Sansa’s waist. “I assume, you provoked me to make noises that resemble those of a person being brutally murdered…?”

That prompted a heartfelt laugh from Sansa, a grin coming on her lips then as she met Margaery’s lips in a rather chaste kiss, “You almost make it sound like I should be proud.”

“Oh, most definitely, sweet girl.”

The certain spark returned to Margaery’s eyes with those words and her mouth urged against Sansa’s in a deep and fervent kiss, so very much that the unease was swiftly replaced with the explicit recollection of what they had been doing moments before being so harshly disturbed. Of how Margaery had trembled under her hands, how her back had arched over the balcony railing, granting Sansa the most glorious view of her exquisite body, the sounds she had moaned into the darkness of the night.

“Should we…?” Sansa let the question hanging in the air between them.

The gentle smile on Margaery’s face would have been enough of an answer, but still she nodded, her steps already urging Sansa back into the room, generously assuming that for tonight they both had enough of semi-public spaces, only halting when the back of her knees hit the bed.

“If you’re refusing to leave this room, we ought to keep ourselves entertained for the next five days.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was at least mildly entertaining?  
> Happy about any feedback you want to bring my way :)
> 
> (Fun fact: The story behind this comes actually happened and comes from my time of working on a cruise ship. There was a couple going at it up against their balcony railing, which was mistaken for a domestic fight, and him trying to push her over board. A whole bunch of people turned up in their cabin only to discover that what was going on was more of the passionate than on the criminal side.)


End file.
